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I didn’t wish I was deaf, but that sort of focused obliviousness would have really helped.
The time came and I strode out to face the throng. Head high with confidence that I tried to convince myself I was really feeling, my lucky baton clutched white-knuckle in my right hand.
My eyes were fixed on the opposite wing, only catching sight of the podium in my peripheral vision. It wasn’t stage-fright, per se. Just the full, crushing reality of the situation hitting me all at once.
I’d no doubt get used to it after multiple exposures.
If there were indeed more to come.
It began. The assembled orchestra giving it their all. The show held nearly as much possibility for them as me. My name may have been on the front of the printed programs but theirs, as well as the instrument they played, were listed inside.
I lost all sense of time of the world around me. For that allotted time, there was nothing but the music, each note, section and movement flowing by like a river.
My hands were moving by sheer muscle memory, built-up by intense practice. In a way, I was as much of a listener as the audience was.
It rushed up like a wave. The sound of applause and general adulation hit my ears as my shoulders slumped with relief and I did my best not to cry. Happy tears nearly as undeniable as those of anguish.
The after party was a lavish affair, held at a nearby restaurant, at least partly to butter up any influential attendees.
There were even chocolate dipped strawberries on offer, the first few trays of which were depleted within minutes. There was champagne, but most people seemed to be going easy with it.
“Great show,” someone said.
I turned toward the unfamiliar voice, still in something of a fugue state. Tall and lean, the florescent lights reflecting off his bald head, I recognized him almost immediately.
“You’re- ”
“Sebastian Greene, artistic director of the Pops Orchestra.”
He handed me a card stating this very same thing. It was an unnecessary gesture, but I guess it never hurt to have some confirmation of who someone was saying they were.
“I know,” I blurted. “I mean, I’ve been listening to the Pops since I was a kid.”
“Oh, stop it, you’ll make me feel old,” he joked.
Before I could ask what he was doing there, planning to make sure to not make it sound like an accusation, he saved me the trouble.
“I heard through the grape-vine you were having your graduation concert and thought I would come and have a listen.”
“That grapevine wouldn’t happen to have been named Varg, would it?”
“Oh, no, it was Seth Black. I think he said he heard about from a Dutch chap. Theo, I believe the name was.”
My heart dropped into my shoes. I remembered telling Theo about my big night. He’d seemed interested at the time, but I didn’t think he would actually remember.
“Anyway, our conductor is retiring after this season, and we would very much like you to take his place. You wouldn’t be starting until next spring but-”
“Yes,” I nearly shouted, attracting some confused looks. “I’ll do it.”
“Very good. Give me a call on Thursday and we can begin the process.”
“Yes, sir, thank you, sir.”
He gave a nod and disappeared back into the crowd. His card in my hand was the primary evidence that I hadn’t just imagined the entire thing.
In sudden need of a drink, my mouth feeling like a desert, I went over to the refreshment table and slugged back four or five bottled waters.
“Hello, darling,” someone said.
This voice was a lot more familiar.
I’d never done a spit-take before, but there was a time and a place for everything.
“No,” I said, closing my eyes, praying it wasn’t all just a dream, “you’re not here, you can’t be here.”
“I’m here,” he said, holding me tight. “It was the first time I could get a flight back. I couldn’t stay away from you.”
“Good,” I said, not caring if I sounded like a desperate fool. “I missed you so much.
“I missed you so much, too,” he said. “I came to tell you I love you too.”
Once again, the world fell away into nothingness, time and space losing all meaning. I didn’t even realize we’d left the party until Theo set me down on the bed. I must have been conscious enough to give him directions, because we were back at my place before I knew.
“You were certainly ready for me,” he said, “without even knowing I was coming.”
My jacket was already off as were my pants, thrown half-way across the room, clearly by me. Damn right I was ready for him. It was all I’d wanted for almost a month.
“Correct,” I replied.
Theo finished undressing me, kissing his way down from my neck to my knees as he unbuttoned my shirt. Working his way back up, he slid down my panties, and took off my bra, which he managed to get unfastened with one hand.
